“Sure, but it’s my job to help you. That’s the whole point of a sanctuary host.”
“It isn’t help I wanted or asked for.”
“Actually, you kind of did. When you applied for sanctuary—”
“Look, I know!” I’m so tired of people reframing what I did or didn’t do today, I can’t take his know-it-all tone anymore. “I said what I had to. My sister was sick so I said yes to whatever the hell would get her through those hospital doors. Youknowthat’s true, so don’t be an ass and act like it isn’t!”
“Fine! You’re right, but… can you maybe trynotto make this any more difficult than it already is?” We’ve arrived at his bike lock-up; he wrestles it open with far more aggression than a little key like that needs.
“Oh, sorry. I forgot.” I clasp my hands together and put on the most obnoxious, high-pitched voice I can muster. “Thank you, thank you, Sid Charles! You have saved me! Without you I would never—”
“I’m not asking for thanks! I get that you’re scared as shit right now, but this place has rules. Ignoring them doesn’t make them go away. It just makes guys like Tomthink you’re going to lash out and kill everyone. He’s your immigration officer. He can ruin your life. Mine too, actually.” He locks me in place with a pleading look that is undeniably arresting, thanks to his sharp blue eyes. “So chill out.Please. You want to help your sister, don’t you? Can you play along for her?”
“I… fine. Whatever.” Bringing up April is a dick move, not least of all because it makes me realize how often I’ve had some form of this conversation with her.Yes, April. Those are wolves you hear howling. But can you stop freaking out? Can you fall asleep anyway?The predators aren’t going away, but it’s better not to let them know where to find easy prey.
“Thank you,” he sighs.
I lean against an old lamp post that no longer has lightbulbs in it and watch him wheel the bike a few feet to where there’s a wooden sign with BUS painted on it.
“Iamgrateful, by the way.” I say suddenly. He gapes at me, as stunned by this admission as I am. “You didn’t have to defend me to Tom, but you did anyway. I’m very,verygrateful. Without you, things could have…” I take a shaky breath. “I could be—”
“It’s gonna be fine. We’ll get you through this.”
We. He says it so easily. What’s it like, being able to trust a stranger? I haven’t given him a single reason to help me. In fact, I’ve made his life demonstrably worse.
Maybe this is just the sort of man he is. Maybe he’s just… kind?
“Oh, and… I’m sorry about the slingshot.” Should have said that ages ago, too. “Did it hurt?”
He snorts. “Of course, it hurt. Rocks hurt.”
“So why didn’t you arrest me? If there was a law and it hurt…”
He gives me another long stare. I wish I could read hisemotions, but unfortunately, all his expressions seem to be some variation on a scowl. “Honestly? It just seemed like a shitty thing to do. And you only shot at me because you were trying to protect your sister. To me, that means you aren’t dangerous. Not really.”
“Not really?”
“Well, you obviously could be if you wanted.”
“Damn right. I could mess you upgood, Sid Charles.” At that, his eyes go wide and my heart sinks. Oh, shit. Does he think I’m being serious? “That’s a joke, by the way. You can tell that’s a joke, right?”
“Yes. I can tell.” He collects himself and even gives a faint smile. Okay, maybe he isn’talwaysscowling. All too quickly, it vanishes, like the real world has just caved in on him. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about Tom. I thought if I didn’t report it, it would be like it never happened. But now…”
A wave of shame hits me as he trails off. He deserves this crappy situation even less than I do.
“I’ll get out of your hair. I promise. I’ll figure out this medicine thing, then April and I won’t bother you again. It will be like you said. Like it never happened.”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
I have to admit—well-intentioned as my promises are—they sound incredibly naïve.
THE BUS TURNSout to be another covered wagon, nothing at all like the illustrations in theLet’s Go to School!picture book I used to read to April back when she was learning her alphabet. But it does have enough space for Sid to lift his bike in, dump my bags, and carry us. There are other people riding too, so I suppose it counts as public transport. Everyone sits in polite silence for the duration of the ride, which suits me fine. I’m already scrubbed raw from everything that’s happened today.
Eventually, Sid signals for the driver to stop. He offers me a hand as I hop down from the wagon, easily dwarfing mine. Hard callouses support me as I try to find solid ground. But the nerves of reaching our destination—this man’s home—make me shaky and so ironically, I have to hold onto him for longer than I want to as I steady myself.
We walk down a gravel drive flanked by evergreens that eventually opens into a field of cultivated grain, golden and ripe. Closer to the homestead are several raised garden beds, most laden with mature summer crops, but some showing new plantings of onions, broccoli, and carrots.
The building at the centre of the acreage is larger than I expected, more like the duplexes April and I sometimes scavenged than a single-family home. On the upper landing, a young man leans against the railing, nursing a cigarette. He does a double take when he sees us approaching.
